


A Dark And Stormy Night Or Some Shit Like That

by voidlightCalliope



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Attempted Murder, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Intentionally Bad Spelling & Grammar, Kidnapping, Purple Prose, Rabid Fangirls, Why Did I Write This?, honey badgers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidlightCalliope/pseuds/voidlightCalliope
Summary: god is frowning down at this fanfic and i don't fucking blame him





	A Dark And Stormy Night Or Some Shit Like That

It was a dark and stormy night, elegant streams of white lighting flashing through the pallid purple skies as Toaster-Chan looked mournfully through the glassy windows of Kong Studio. A wet, neon tear dripped down his metallic exterior and it shimmered as it fell.

It was melodramatic, it was sweet as sugar. But a dark bitter taste rolled over the skies.

Toaster-Chan let out a soft sob.

It had only been three months since he had been rescued by the Gorillaz from the cruel, vindictive clutches of Harry Styles, three months since he had gazed into his rescuers dark eyes, phosphorous blue glitter above their lids and had fallen ironically in love with those aforementioned eyes.

Noodle was an angel, an angel straight from the splintered clutches of a Fedex crate (Or was it a UPS crate? Much like the blueberry haired 2D, Toaster-Chan had severe brain damage from his torture at Harry Styles bloody hands...and this impaired his memory to a great extent.) but now, as the thunder rolled like a rolling pin over wet cookie dough, Toaster-Chan found himself doubting. Doubting their relationship...was he good enough for Noodle? 

“Of course u are good enough for me Toaster-Chan,” Noodle said luxuriously from the doorway. Toaster-Chan gasped, his electronic breath crackling with ozone, “U have taught me the meaning of love. U make my korokoro go all gooey.”

Toaster-Chan swooned, “U are too good 2 me.” Noodle nodded sagely. She was. As the two embraced, Toaster-Chan happier than he ever had been, darkness lurked.

For as the storm raged behind the window, a evil presence was watching…

Harry Styles.

****

Noodle and Toaster-Chan walked down to the kitchen, where 2D was sitting, eating cereal with the skill and grace of a man with severe brain damage.

His bright blue hair shone like melted plastic. The melted plastic of his plate shone like his hair. Mmmmhm. Shiny. Like a laqured starfish. Noodle ate a whole octopus raw.

“Oi, hey there Noods.” he said as the happy couple sat down, Toaster-Chan grabbing a pack of batteries for breakfast, Noodle making herself a bowl of noodles (not a bowl of herself, god, you freaks.), “That was a real crazy storm wasn’t it, eh?”

Toaster-Chan scowled. He hated 2D, with his British accent and slimy hair and black, inky eye holes. He was everything Toaster-Chan wasn’t...more brain-damaged, bluer, more musical.

And the way he looked at his Noodle. Sick. Then again, he wasn’t really sure if he was looking at Noodle due to his own brain damage, but he was pretty sure he was. Toaster-Chan was smart like that. And dumb like that.

“Yes, it was spooky.” Noodle said in sweet, lilting accent, her hair smelling like roses and burnt toast (Just how Toaster-Chan liked it. He smirked at 2D, who did nothing. Then Toaster-Chan remembered he didn’t have teeth. Or a mouth.), “Do u think that it was an-” a dramatic pause. A can of tuna was burning on the stove, “dark omen?” she gasped.

“Oi, maybe.” 2D said. His Dutch licorice colored peepers narrowed, his white and black shirt tight around his scrawny shoulders, white shoes shining, “I heard a bunch ah’ scrabbling behind the house last night.”

A dark cloud swirled over the skies.

“It’s probably just the honey badger.” Toaster-Chan said cockily, “U know, the one that Noodle had to save you from.” a sudden bang of pots and pans clanged from the kitchen and then a small explosion.

Nobody cared. 

They sat in passive-aggressive silence together, 2-D eating five oranges and two apples, Noodle ate a butter sandwich and Toaster-Chan had a piece of perfectly toasted jelly-peanut butter toast.

But little did the band members (and a talentless lump of sadness and metal: Toaster-Chan) know, a evil man was standing by.

Yes. Harry Styles was watching idly from the window sill. He was seething with rage. The disgusting toaster was fraternizing with that slimy Noodle girl. It was sickening. Disgusting. He felt his eyes burn with anger.

He remembered the call he had gotten from the moldy green guy. Offering him 230,000 dollars in cash to destroy Toaster-Chan. Money. Harry Styles licked his elbows in blood-thirsty hunger. He loved money. 

“I love money.” Harry Styles said huskily, like honey and peanut-butter, thick swirls of chocolate syrupy melting under the sunlight smoothly.

“I love u!!!” The fangirls cheered. Harry Styles took an AK and shot one and they all scattered like birds, “WE STILL LOVE YOU!”

“Heck off!” Harry Styles said because he had daddy issues and anger issues, which I guess made him hotter, because who doesn’t love a nice, thick scoop of dysfunctional relationship traits in your romantic endeavors towards a 1 Direction band member?

Harry sucked his shining white teeth with sadistic flavor. Mooooooooneyyyy. He knew what he had to do.

FIVE WEEKS LATER

It had taken five weeks for Harry Styles to successfully make a plan. It had taken twelve thousand dollars, ten still beating hearts, a bottle of Pine-Sol, two King-Sized Kit-Kat bars and a full collectors edition of the Golden Girls, but finally, his hard work had paid off.

He stared at Toaster-Chan as the light melted off from his metal body in thick, wet streaks. Harry Styles licked his eyebrows in anticipation. Oh, how he loved the thrill of the hunt. The blood. The screams. The potential lawsuits.

“Toaster-Chan, I am so happy u are my best boyfriend forever.” Noodle said, her half of a cheap Claire’s bf/gf necklace swinging from her noodly neck idly, “Nothing could go wrong today.”

“WRONG!” Harry Styles said, jumping out with a pentagram painted on his forehead and his pants pulled up to his chin, “YOU CAN’T RUN NOW TOASTER-CHAN!”

“NOOOOO!” Toaster-Chan howled, as Harry Styles threw him across the field of grass and empty beer cans. Noodle laid down and cried because she was sad, “NO PLEASE DON’T MURDER ME!”

“Can’t we all just be friends? :D <3,” Noodle said, sobbing still.

“How the hell did you say that?” Harry Styles said.

“She’s magic, mate,” Murdoc said, suddenly appeared out of the bushes, his greasy black hair coming down in oily waves of hair gel and old man depression. 

Russel threw up, “I gotta go.” he left, disappearing into the distance like a ghost. Everyone assumed staring in horror at Murdoc.

He looked like the Grinch if the Grinch smoked a pack a day for forty years. His green skin was the color of a rotten lime. His breath smelled like dirt and prison dirt, which is the same as regular dirt but even dirtier. Noodle gasped. 2-D suddenly burst out of Kong Studios with a shovel and tried to knock out Harry Styles but the fangirls fell out the sky and tried to kill 2-D. 

“Murdoc, I thought u were in jail?” Noodle said. 2-D was lying on the floor limp as a wet noodle. 

“I broke out.” Murdoc was holding a Taco Bell 12 pack of tacos with extra sauce. He took a taco out and ate it, “Is the damn toaster dead already?”

“You were the person that told Harry Styles to kill Toaster-Chan?” Noodle gasped with a faint breath, “Oh no!”

“Plz don’t kill me.” Toaster-Chan said, “I am too pretty to die.” Thunder rolled with a crashing bang in the resounding distance.

“Bitch, you’re made of metal what are you talking about?” Harry Styles said, ripping off his shirt sexily. 

In the distance, his fangirls swooned, blood spewing from their noses in a nasty show of amine horniness. Amen, “Rest in pieces you sad lump of alloy steel.” he flexed his pectoral muscles, eyes glinting with the rage of a million tigers.

“I’m...made of…nickel.” Toaster-Chan wheezed, toast spilling out from his deep wounds. and he closed his eyes and fell to the ground. Noodle screamed, rushing to him. Murdoc and Russel ate a taco. With extra sauce.

“Toaster-Chan!” Noodle said, black-blue hair limp as uncooked noodles as wet tears bubbled at her electric brown eyes. Toaster-Chan knew his time was up. He was going to the great big appliance store in the sky. He sighed hotly. His coils were dying, “U cannot leave us!”

“I mean, it’d do us a favor.” Murdoc said, being dirty and green in the corner, “Never liked that creepy damn toaster in the first place. That’s why Harry over here was trying’ to take him out.”

“Why are u out of jail?” Russell said, confused.

“Because this story needed another villain and when has a fanfic stuck to anarchisms?.” Murdoc said. Russell thought that made sense. Harry Styles died. Nobody noticed except for the weird fangirls. The skies broke open with toast rain, God watching with disgust. 

Toaster-Chan let out a death rattle and died a happy toaster.

Noodle cried for a second, then got over it and got married to a better kitchen appliance, Freezer-Kun. Murdoc went back to jail for assaulting a McDonald's worker. 2D still had brain damage. Russell was irrelevant like he always is in fanfiction. Harry Styles was dead.

THE END


End file.
